


Thicker Than Water

by Stayloose



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slight Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:31:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stayloose/pseuds/Stayloose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse at the biggest skeleton in Root's closet.</p><p> </p><p>*She’s staring at the number in disbelief. She knows that number. She has always known that number.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spilled Champagne

Root pops the cork off the champagne. The golden liquid froths up and she hurriedly tries to pour it into the three glasses she bought especially for this occasion. The Machine was back online. After months of laying low and avoiding Samaritan like the plague, Root finally had a reason to smile. Her God was reborn.

Reese takes the glass she offers him and downs it in one. Smiling now, Root turns to Harold and attempts to give him his own glass of champagne. He, as expected, declines her offer. Mumbling about how this wasn’t an appropriate cause for celebration. That there was a mountain-load of work yet to be done.

Root didn’t mind. She was happy, the happiest she had been in a while. It wouldn’t last though; it never did. No matter what she did or where she went Root would never get her happy ending. That much had been clear for a while now. It’s why she tended to live in the moment and not dwell on the past too much. Well, tried not to anyway. Some scars just stay with you forever. And no matter how hard you try to wash away the pain, it remains. A constant companion.

Reese is cheery too. Filling his glass up again, he asks Finch when the numbers will start coming again. He’s been restless for the past few months as well. Stuck behind his Detective’s shield he’s been going insane not being able to kneecap people. Well, not without upsetting his Captain anyway. He’s been assigned temporary administrative duties after the latest incident involving ‘excessive use of force’.

Finch frowns at the question. He believes that John sounds just a bit too excited at the prospect of someone being in mortal danger. Before he can scold him though, the Machine whirs, beeping out a number.

“Well John, it looks like you’ll have your wish. We seem to have a new number. I’ll run some tests to make sure it isn’t a glitch, but it all seems in order so far”.

Root’s been busy with the second bottle. She and Reese had already finished the first and she was struggling to pop the cork of this one. Finally, as it came off, she glanced at the screen seeing the social security number. The bottle smashed into thousands of pieces as it hit the floor.

She’s staring at the number in disbelief. She knows that number. She has always known that number. Long before the Machine, Harold or Shaw had entered her life; throwing it into chaos. ‘It can’t be right’, Root reassures herself. It’s just a mistake. Maybe the Machine hasn’t got everything worked out quite yet. But there’s a sinking suspicion that it’s not a mistake. Root heart twists at the thought. She can’t let her die. Not ever. And certainly not without making things right between them.

Both Finch and Reese are staring at Root. Moments ago the hacker had been the life and soul of the – let’s be honest, not all that great – party. Now, she’s staring at the Harold’s screen, completely oblivious to the spreading pool of alcohol and broken glass at her feet. Her entire demeanour had changed. Root was frozen, a look a fear, dread and panic settling over her face. It almost appeared as if she had seen a ghost.

“Miss Groves, are you alright”, Finch asked, the concern heavy in his voice.

“We have to save her Harold”, Root tells him, trying – unsuccessfully – to keep her voice from shaking.

“We will certainly try our best Miss Groves. But with Samaritan watching we will still need to keep a low profile”.

“I don’t give a damn about Samaritan, Finch. We are going to save her and that’s that!” Root takes a breath, trying to calm herself. It’s not working too well.

Reese meets her gaze, realising something as he does so. This is personal for Root. She knew who the number belonged to immediately. Which means that it is someone extremely important to her. Gently he asks, “Who is she Root?”

Swallowing now, Root hesitates before answering. She hadn’t told anyone about this. There was no-one else who knew anymore. Except the Machine of course, she knew all of the skeletons that were forcibly shoved into Root’s overflowing closet. Unsure of what Reese and Harold will think of her once she tells them who the teenage girl is, she almost decides against telling them. Until she sees the worry and concern that’s crystal clear in Harold’s eyes.

Finally, she softly explains, “She’s my daughter”.


	2. One-Armed Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Her voice breaks. She doesn’t seem to be able to form words anymore. Just low, pained animalistic noises are escaping her mouth now.*

 

Silence fills the room. Root’s staring at her feet, just wishing that the floor of the abandoned subway could swallow her whole. Then she wouldn’t have to be here. With the two of them, just staring at her. Both Reese and Finch were looking at her with shocked expressions, like she had just announced she was running for president or was planning to go vegan.

Reese recovered first. He wipes the surprised look off his face and elbows Harold in the ribs; trying to stop him from gawking at Root. It doesn’t work in the slightest. John rolls his eyes, and looks back to Root. A small grin is spreading over his face. Until, he sees the pained look in her eyes. That’s when he notices the small tears that are pooling in her eyes. One breaks free and runs the length of her face. As it falls, it seems to snap Harold out of his trance.

“You, … you have a daughter”, he stammers, evidently confused. “How?”

“Well Harold”, Root begins, wiping away her tears and adopting a voice one might use when talking to a small child. “When two people love each other very much –”.

“Yes, thank you Miss Groves. I don’t need you to explain the birds and the bees to me. I’m more curious about why you’ve never mentioned this before. I don’t understand how you could continually place yourself in such dangerous situations, knowing you have a child who depends on you. Needs you”.

“She doesn’t need me. No-one needs me”, Root replies angrily. “She doesn’t even know that …”

Her voice breaks. She doesn’t seem to be able to form words anymore. Just low, pained animalistic noises are escaping her mouth now. Root lowers herself to the ground and curls up into herself. She’s hugging her legs and rocking back and forth. Her breathing is elevated and she tries not to hyperventilate. It’s been a while since her last panic attack, but the feeling of being helpless is exactly as she remembers it. Cold, empty and alone.

John immediately sits himself down next to her. He pulls Root into a one-armed embrace; letting her body shake against his. They stay like this for a while, with him comforting her while she desperately tries to get a hold of herself. Eventually, she does. Sniffing back tears, Root lightly pushes him away, before explaining.

“She doesn’t know I’m her mother. She thinks that –”, her voice trails off again.

Finch meanwhile has brought up everything he could find on her onto his computer screens. Scanning the details he glances up at Root.

“Sarah O’Conner, 18 years old. She was adopted when she was six months old by Kieran O’Connor, who later went on to become the head of the Irish mob”, Harold pauses before he continues. “It says here that her birth parents were killed in a car accident, 17 years ago”.   

“It wasn’t an accident”, Root states in a strained whisper, “And I wasn’t quite dead, was I. But he was there”, she nods at the photo of Kieran on Finch’s screen. “He pulled Sarah out of the wreckage and just walked away with her”.

John pulls her in again and this time she doesn’t protest. Just leans in him, with a distant, glazed look on her face. Remembering. Remembering what she did afterwards.

Harold’s busying himself with his computers again. It makes him uncomfortable seeing Root that vulnerable. He tells himself his looking for potential threats to the number’s life, but he’s lying. Finch doesn’t want to see Root like that, broken down and crying. It reminds him of someone else. Another person he cared about long ago with tears glistening in her eyes.

Finch focuses intently on his work. “It appears that she’s being released from the juvenile detention facility where she’s been for the last four years”. Reading on, he gasps, “She killed her adoptive father when she was just fourteen years old. Shot him three times at point blank range and was seated beside him when the police arrived on scene. Never said a word to the police or during her trial”.

Root shifts uncomfortably. “That’s not true, Harold”.

“I’m afraid it is Miss Groves. I have access to the police reports, the minutes of the court trial and testimonies from the neighbours. The forensics’ report states that ‘given the quantity of blood that had pooled on her clothes, she had to have been there when he died’. She killed him, it’s irrefutable”.

Root just shakes her head sadly. “Sarah didn’t kill him, Harold”, she pauses for a moment. Not entirely sure that telling the two of them is such a good idea. But she can’t have Finch and Reese thinking that of her daughter. Looking up at him now, she stares into Finch’s eyes.

“I did”. 

 

 


	3. Pain Receptors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No-one’s moving inside the overturned vehicle. It’s far from silent though.
> 
> (Flashback)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> This chapter contains details that may be difficult for people who have been in or lost others in vehicular accidents.

Root looks terrible. She’s blaming the exhaustion. Her skin is paler than usual, her hair has become flat, lifeless and is now possesses countless split ends. She’s had it in a messy bun for a few days now. And the last time it was washed was sometime last week. Being a conniving criminal and a stay at home Mum doesn’t exactly leave her much time for personal maintenance. At least she can work from the tiny apartment she’s living in at the moment. With her boyfriend, Sean.

Finally, Sarah falls asleep. Root breathes a sigh of relief and slowly lowers herself to the carpeted floor. It isn’t long before she drifts off herself. Which is understandable. Getting woken up at 5am is hard enough as it is. Add in the fact that Sarah is a hyperactive little six month old baby who has made it her sole purpose in life to keep Root from resting. This is not the first time that she has fallen asleep on the floor. Her neck is going to be killing her tomorrow.   

The door to the apartment slams. Waking Sarah, who immediately starts crying; waking Root. She’s pulls herself to her feet and tries to soothe her. But that’s not going to work now is it. Not when Sean is crashing noisily into every piece of furniture just past the threshold. With a murderous glint in her eyes she moves closer to him. Not yet noticing the spreading pool of blood that is leaving his ever-weakening body.

“The hell, Sean? I literally just got her down. And you decide now is a great time to come crashing home. And where have you been? You were supposed to be here three hours ago. I swear to god if you were out drinking with Kieran again, I will rip your tongue out of your damn mouth and shove it up –”.

“Root”, Sean manages, struggling for breath. The effort costs him and he’s falling back into the wall, slipping down it. His blood is smearing all over the white walls that Root had just repainted that week. After the last time Kieran had come over.

“Shit. Sean, what happened”, Root asks, grabbing a towel as she races over to him. She gently presses it where most of the blood is pouring out off. It seems to help slow the blood flow, but it still isn’t enough. Sean needs a doctor. Gritting her teeth, she glances around for her phone. She can’t see it anywhere.  

“We need to leave Root”.

“Sweetie, we can’t move you. I’ll have to call an ambulance. Dammit, where the hell is my phone?”

“We have to go now. Kieran knows”.

“Knows what?” Root asks, her eyes narrowing.

Sean swallows, he’d forgotten that he hadn’t told her. “He knows I was the one who stole the money”.

Root mouth drops open in shock. How could Sean be so stupid? Stealing money from the mob was never a good idea. She had only done it a few times herself, but at least she always covered her tracks.

“Don’t be angry, ok. We needed it. Babies are expensive”, Sean grins up at her.

She can’t stay mad at him. Never could. And especially not now when he’s bleeding out in their home. “Fine, I’m not angry. But you’re still an idiot”, Root answers with her own grin.

“He’s coming”.

Her grin disappears. A total look of panic fills her face and she shoves Sean’s hand onto the towel, forcing him to hold it against himself. Grabbing the car keys, she crosses the room in two quick strides and grabs the still bawling baby Sarah. Who when being picked up by her mother stops crying immediately. She loves the attention, after all.

Root rushes outside; quickly and methodically strapping Sarah into her special car seat. Moments later she’s doing the same for Sean. In his current condition, he can’t do much of anything. She slams the car door shut after him and slips into the driver’s seat. She pulls off the curb and enters the deserted streets. It’s late. Hardly anyone is awake here, at this godforsaken hour.

Root is now speeding away from the apartment where she’d been living for the last year or so. The only place she had ever felt settled and she was leaving it all behind. Sarah cries in the backseat. She’s not used to this evasive style of driving. Root’s always been so careful before. She glances in her mirror to check on Sarah. That’s why she didn’t see it coming. Didn’t swerve out of the way. Didn’t slam on the brakes to avoid it.

She only noticed the SUV when it hit their car side on, forcing her across the street.

Root’s car wheel lodged itself in a pothole as it slid across the road. The car jerked desperately and began to roll, crashing against the bitumen over and over again. Eventually, its momentum slowed. For a moment the car was suspended mid-air by the two wheels on the right side of the vehicle. With a certain finality, the car fell on itself with all four wheels now in the air.

 

 

 

 

No-one’s moving inside the overturned vehicle. It’s far from silent though. Sarah’s yelling and crying simultaneously, suspended upside down in her child’s seat. That’s the noise that breaks through to Root. Not the sirens of the approaching fire department. Her daughter crying. Root tries to move but she can’t. Her leg is jammed between what’s left of the driver’s side door and the steering wheel.

Still she’s desperately trying to reach Sarah. Despite the throbbing in her head, her inability to breathe painlessly, the blood trickling down her temple, and the lack of feeling she has in her left hand. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Not when Sarah’s hanging upside down, the blood rushing to her head.

Root sees a pair of boots outside her window. Strange, she didn’t hear anyone approaching. She tries to call for help, but the words struggle to escape her mouth. Her windpipe had been badly impacted. So she reaches out and grabs the ankle. The man leans down and Root’s face stills.

It’s Kieran. Smirking at her, not a care in the world. “You know. You really should be more careful driving at night. Anything could happen”, he says with a gloating tone. He looks past Root and sees Sean. Silent and unmoving; covered in blood and broken glass. Job done then. He turns to leave. Then he pauses. Sarah’s gone quiet in the back.

He pokes his head into the backseat. Looking at her Kieran frowns. He hadn’t thought they would bring her. He didn’t like it when kids got caught in the crossfire. He gently unbuckles her from her seat, lowering her gently and pulling her towards him. Sarah opens her eyes and squirms uncomfortably in the unfamiliar grip. Straightening he rocks her gently. With a final glance at the smouldering vehicle he walks away.

He doesn’t look back. Not even when Root’s strangled voice echoes through the air.

“Don’t. You. Touch. Her”.

Root is desperately trying to follow him. Pulling herself through the broken window, broken glass embedding itself in her skin. Not that she can feel it, her entire body is numb. Her pain receptors had switched themselves off due to the overload of senses it had been bombarded with. She can’t move her legs at the moment. So she’s dragging herself using her right arm; her left side hanging uselessly from her shoulder.

She’s too late. Kieran had reached his car and driven off. With Sarah.

“No, … no, no, no, no, no. SARAH!”

 

 

By the time the ambulance and fire engines arrive, Root’s collapsed – unconscious again – in the middle of the road. The car behind her is engulfed by flames. There’s not a single other soul in sight.


End file.
